


Should've, Could've - Burnt the lab instead

by Elysandra



Series: Persephone in furs [4]
Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Domme/sub dynamic, Established Relationship, Experimentation, F/M, Helen has questions, Oxford!Era, Sadism, Should've Could've Did instead prompt (Tumblr), Teslen Appreciation Week, on a Vampire, pain and pleasure, pain play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25115158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elysandra/pseuds/Elysandra
Summary: An experiment gone wrong. Helen is not amused. And has scientific questions of her own.
Relationships: Helen Magnus/Nikola Tesla
Series: Persephone in furs [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819111
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9
Collections: Tumblr Teslen Appreciation Week





	Should've, Could've - Burnt the lab instead

~~~

In a long-drawn, long-suffering cry, his voice echoes underneath the high-vaulted ceiling as sharp nails rake up the length of his twitching, aching cock, the sharp, spiked ring at the bottom biting mercilessly into his flesh every time it does move. It reminds him of Helen’s will, which is all that stands between him and sweet, sweet relief, between him and the end of his torture. 

  
She has been 'experimenting' on him for such a long time now, he finds himself reduced to a whimpering, writhing mess underneath her hands. Any touch, anywhere, and his body reacts, with no input from his brain at all. It has been completely incapacitated; his body is in control. And Helen is in control of his body. 

  
What he should have done, really, seriously, very much direly should have done, was pause his latest experiment at the agreed upon time. Turn off his machine, note down the results, and then hurry upstairs into the dining room where Helen was waiting for him. His Helen. 

  
He swallows, gasps, then cries out helplessly as pain radiates up from between his legs, as sharp as the sound of the cane just a second earlier. He whimpers, whines. Pleading. And yet his cock twitches. 

  
His Helen, all poised, elegant. She would have given him a pleased little smile when he joined, and asked about his day in the lab. She'd have introduced him to her guests with that unmistakable look of pride in her eyes, the one she sometimes gets when he behaves well around company. He should have behaved well. He really should have. It would have meant fleeting touches throughout the evening, testament of how pleased she'd have been. Certainly praising words, words that talked about his latest ideas but meant so much more. Maybe, with a little bit of luck, it would have even meant a bit of hidden teasing throughout the evening, to keep her entertained. Well, depending on who their guests were. It certainly would have seen him greet the night on his knees, pleasing her in the only way that really matters. 

  
Alas, that is what he _should_ have done. He realises that. Now. 

  
What he could have done - what any clever man would have done - when he finally noticed the time, and certainly when he noticed the worrying little sizzling sound a couple of minutes later, is to hurriedly stop his experiment, freshen up as quickly as possible, and join his wife with a muttered excuse of 'experiments taking longer than planned'. 

  
That would have certainly brought him a disapproving frown, possibly a tight-lipped rebuke. And maybe a few hidden threats throughout dinner as she tells their guests about his work, or has him talk about it. 

  
"Moderate hits with the cane leave a mark for about ten to twelve seconds," he hears Helen mumble, and turns his head to watch her note her observation down. 

  
"That time mirrors harsher slaps on less soft parts of the skin. The second part of the experiment should include a series of hits with progressively increased strength, to test the limits." 

  
Nikola hears himself whimper at her words. He has no idea what 'the second part' entails, but it has been referred to a couple of times already. It does NOT sound desirable. 

  
Turning his face back up toward the ceiling, he swallows rapidly a couple of times, trying to spare himself the indignity of drooling. It is not easy, with his mouth spread open like that. Helen had warned him, but he had not listened, could not help but plead with her as the details of her first experiment became clear. Her recently bought and now re-purposed mouth gag put an end to that, quite efficiently, without muting his reactions. She needs to hear those clearly, of course. 

  
He could have chosen that second road. Minimise the consequences. He would have most likely been on his knees as soon as their guests left, paying for his tardiness in some way or other. The cane, or being teased without finding relief. Maybe being reduced to watching, displaying his need without talking, touching, moving. 

  
She knows he enjoys that, in a queer way. Teases him mercilessly for it. 

~~~

Instead, he had ignored the time, and leaned in to study the smoke coming up from one of the connections. Right up until the moment he saw a little spark, much to his surprise - and then felt the loud _Boom_ echo through the cellar, throwing him backwards, and resulting in lots of smoke, lots of rubble, wild shrieks from the cages in the adjacent room, and a couple of little fires. 

  
It could have been worse, he figures, but somehow his wife disagrees, appearing at the edge of the chaos like an irate Persephone overlooking the ruins of her empire.

  
He blinks at the sight of her on the top of the steps, light spilling out from behind her and illuminating the suddenly very dark cellar, basking her in a halo perfectly contouring her wrath. 

  
Her silence is unbearable, but her words have his blood run cold. 

  
"You will _not_ set foot upstairs before our guests have left," she tells him, her words sharply restrained, filled with anger. "And I expect this lab to be spotless by the time they do." 

  
She surveys his mess once more, then her eyes land on him, giving his sooty, ruined state a once-over that takes care of any kind of amusement he might have been able to find in this situation. 

  
"In your own interest," she adds, staring down at him. "I have a few experiments of my own that I have been meaning to run for a while now. Considering your..." she pauses again, raising an eyebrow for effect, "enthusiasm for experimentation, I am sure you are going to be a willing test subject." 

  
As his lips work silently, she turns, the heavy door falling shut before he can so much as think of an answer, leaving him in utter darkness. 

  
Since he is not a fool - as debatable as Helen declares that to be at times - he does work without pause at cleaning up his mess while Helen returns to her meal. His stomach is filled with nervous anticipation that snuffs even his usual snark and he has no interest to find out what happens if her expectations are not met. Not on top of everything else. 

  
The lab is spotless, as spotless as it will ever be, when she returns. The same can not be said about him, though, having been forbidden from leaving the cellar. She has him hurry upstairs to clean up, and he returns to find her fully prepared for a series of experiments of her own. 

  
And thus his torture begins. 

~~~

Between each series of pain filled 'tests', there is a series of touches. Her whole hand, her fingertips, her nails - different strategies, different parts of his body. And by now, she has run through enough repetitions for him to realise that those are not as random as he had first thought. Not a reward, a little relief, as he had foolishly assumed. Not meant to balance the pain. That is nothing but a minimal side effect. 

  
He tenses, knowing exactly what is coming next. Then his hips arch off the stone table, his voice once more wailing his torture against the ceiling as she drags her nails up the length of his cock. It _is_ pleasure - in a burning, almost unbearable kind of way. 

  
"Anticipation appears to continue to increase reaction," Helen observes after listening to his wail. "Hips moved a bit higher than before." 

  
He sobs at her detached commentary, 'hips' back down on the by now warm stone tiles. Huffing, he tries to calm his racing heart in the precious moments of her writing down her observations. That has been the last of the touches. Next comes pain. 

  
He clutches her handkerchief, his only way out, knuckles white in dread filled anticipation. It cannot drop. For her, he will endure, will let her experiment. Sate her curiosity. As she expects.

  
He tenses when she straightens and walks around the table to pick up yet another instrument. The sight of the tawse has him tug desperately on his restraints, but they hold, for her they hold. The black leather looks terrifying in her capable hands, a stark contrast to her white lab coat, the cloth covering every last inch of her bustled dress. White, pristine - it makes the tawse look even harsher. 

  
He turns his gaze back upwards. Stares at the ceiling, swallows, moans. There is nothing he can do to stop the next series of tests from happening. His cock twitches pathetically in anticipation of the pain. 

~~~ 

She has gotten rid of the chains at some point during the night - making it so much harder for him to stay in place - so when she takes off his gag and tells him "I am done, get down" he finds himself simply turning and more or less dropping off the side of the table, his legs nowhere near able to support him. Hands shaking badly, he struggles to get the leather strap off his cock under her detached gaze, then kneels in front of her, raw and needy, broken down to pain, and love, and devotion. For her. 

  
"There is a time and place for experiments," she finally says, looking down at him. "And from now on, I decide when and where that is."

  
He swallows, a part of him wishing he were still the man capable of protesting. He is not. Not right now. She is in control. 

  
"Yes, Helen." 

  
His cock twitches.

  
She glances down, sneers. There is no mercy today, not after he burnt down her lab. Again. 

  
"Take care of that," she orders, "then clean up your mess and get dressed. We have appointments to keep." 

  
He watches her go, keeps his hands behind his back until the door falls closed. It feels sacrilegious to touch himself in her presence when she clearly is not interested in witnessing it. It also keeps her from hearing yet another pained whimper when he finally does start touching himself. His wounds might have healed, but this...

  
It turns out to be morning when he follows her up the stairs, the sun shining brightly, the maid busily at work. Helen looks up when he joins her at the breakfast table, properly dressed and coiffed. There is barely a hint of a smile on her lips, but she does hold out her hand for him to greet her properly. Their eyes meet when his lips brush against her knuckles, and hers are warm and amused now, causing a blush to heat up his cheeks. 

  
"Good morning, darling," she greets him as he takes his place at the table. "I have just written up a few replacement orders. I trust you will find time to take care of those for me." 

  
"Yes, Helen." 

  
He nods, taking a sip of the wine the maid places before him. His eyes widen in surprise when, perfectly accentuating the sharpness of the grapes, the tang of blood washes across his tongue, instantly reviving his senses. 

  
"Helen-"

  
"A time and place, Nikola," she gently reminds him. 

  
He nods again, leaning back to watch her finish her breakfast. The taste of her gift continues to sizzle against his tongue, his energies reviving a bit more with every sip he takes. 

  
He stands when she does, preparing to start her day, and smirks when she walks around the table to stand in front of him. He knows that look in her eyes, knows what she's thinking about. 

  
"Join me at The Gardens for lunch." She rests her palm against his chest, studies his waist coat with a pleased little smile, then looks up to meet his smug expression. "You can tell me about your latest experiments then," she tells him, eyes dropping to his Adam's apple when her words have him swallow, hard. She smiles. "And I had an idea for a long-term experiment last night that I would like to hear your... input on." 

  
Her smile grows as his vanishes, replaced by nervous anticipation. 

  
"Yes, Helen," he acknowledges her wishes, cursing himself for letting a faint shiver vibrate in his voice. She studies him, knowingly, and he waits, not dropping his gaze until she nods and turns away. 

  
"Do not forget my orders," she calls back over her shoulder as she strides out of the room, and it takes him a moment to remember the missives on the table. 

  
As if he ever could. 

~~~

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Teslen Appreciation Week 2020 on Tumblr. Day 3: "Experiments".
> 
> Plus, I came across the idea to write "Should've, Could've - did instead" structure fics instead of "5 times" fics - which I had to try, of course. It turned out to be much more difficult! (At least for me.) Hope it worked out and you enjoyed the story!^^


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